Setting Sun
by Palaemona
Summary: He is her sun, and when he sets low into the ground, she will follow into the silent abyss. The sweet beginning to the tragic ending. Lucius/Narcissa


**Setting Sun**

_She will follow for Eternity _

…

She had met him when she was a child and he were no more than a year older. It had been the long summer evenings, with enchanted fire flies lighting in the air and the soft melodies of the violins drifting in the warm night.

She had been of eight years of age, and a marriage contract already sealed her fate with his. He would one day be a Lord, and she his lady. They had been sworn to each other, and no one would ever part them.

When she had first met him, it had been at a Summer Ball. She had been wearing the soft white robes, with her hair pinned back and her mother's string of pearls around her neck. She had been watching the regal Lucius Malfoy hold himself with dignity, and the other children fawn around him, struggling to be heard. The music plays softly, sending shivers down her spine.

She waits with uncertainty, holding herself against the wall, and waiting.

She is young, but she knows the truth. She would wait for eternity for her promised.

It's the sweet beginning to the horrid ending.

…

"I had thought the others had already made off with you," She had spoken softly, looking up at him. First words traded with her one day husband, and she is stiff with fear.

He scoffs slightly before replying with casual grace, "As if those idiots would ever prevent me from being with you."

Her heart warms with his words, and slowly she begins to revolve around the boy. He is her sun, and when he sets low into the ground, she will follow into the silent abyss. Slowly she accepts his hands, pulling her close to him.

She is the youngest of the three, forever forgotten by the bold Bellatrix and the silent Andromeda. He looks at her, and she knows. Fate has intertwined their destinies together, and her fate has been sealed.

She smiles, and holds her head high.

…

The years escape her quickly, and she's already accepted into the Slytherin house, a year below Lucius. No one dares to part the two. Narcissa was well known in her house for hexing any female who dared to make eyes at Lucius, and Lucius was famed for getting violent and bloody revenge on any male that even looked twice at Narcissa.

The message had been clear.

They would never be parted.

The closeness the two had was envied. They lived in sync with one another, always near and never far.

…

Through her sixth year and his seventh, they had become one in body. They've always been one in heart and mind for years, ever since the first moment they had met, and they only cemented the foundation to life. It had been done deep within the dungeons of darkness, buried deep into the ground. The floor had been disgracefully dusted and walls matted with age, but it had mattered not.

They had begun in a rage. Narcissa had been spitting out foul strings of curses about her sisters, and wishing them final death. Lucius is standing patiently before he gives up, for only a fool would wait for Narcissa to work herself down from a spitting rage.

So, he takes action. He kisses her long and hard, before she's tearing delicately at his robes, and he's unraveling the elegant bun that she had pinned her hair up. They breathing had been hard and fast, but movement slow and done with care.

She feels safe, and warm. From outside in, all the way to her heart.

…

He graduates, and she remains. Her hand seemed to have been always sore from the multitude of letters she exchanges almost five times a day. Lucius writes to her, telling her everything. Of the growing truth of War, of his father's pressuring of joining Voldermort. He writes that Malfoy's never bow, and sooner or later, she'll be a Malfoy. He will never let her kneel to anyone.

It's only when he writes those words to her, she calms her fears. He is her sun. When the sun sets, the darkness grows and engulfs her very being. So she will always follow her sun, and never be torn away.

She swears it.

He is Narcissa's, and she is his.

It's just the way it is.

…

Two days after her graduation from Hogwarts, they marry in silence, as Pureblood tradition depicts. They cut their hands in harsh quietness and join them, sharing blood to one another. They drink wine, burning roughly in their throats. They stand in unity, not a single word spoken to one another. They stand like statues for twenty four hours, from the time the sun rises, to its setting, and it's rising once again.

They stand with stoic masks on their faces. He stands rigid and she stands soft. His face his hard, but his eyes are soft. Her face is pale, but her eyes are bright. They stand like bonfires, so quiet but so loud. Solid in past and unwavering future. The present had never been firmer.

When the Priest declares the Marriage their reality, no longer a precious piece of document, they kiss long and hard.

No one dares to separate the two, because they had waited long enough.

…

His arm is eternally stained by the twisted mark, tying him to a madman. She watches him in silence, and does not dare speak of such matters. He refused violently to allow her anywhere near the Dark Lord, much less take the mark.

He agrees that the stupid Muggles have no place in their world, but not even he would go to such extent.

She accepts his sacrifice with grave silence, as he gave his loyalty to the twisted maniac, and traded his soul to the devil. She prays that the end will come, and pain will cease.

They hold their head's high, because when the world scorns them, they must stand tall to greet a new day.

…

Nine years of sadness and suffering. Nine year's worth of trees Narcissa had planted in mourning, for each child. She becomes saddled with guilt, burdened and suffering. She withers away, like a plant denied the sun for so long.

Lucius is the one whom is tortured, watching each death hit his wife harder and harder. He knows sooner or later, she will snap. He doesn't dare interfere with the trees she plants in the rich fertile soil, and says nothing when he finds the grit beneath her nails and clothing soiled from dirt and tears.

She is suffering, and he will suffer alongside with her.

…

Her womb had swollen with the blessing of a child. For three months she never strayed from her silk covered bed. Her neck displayed a string of jewels, and her fingers decorated with delicate rings. Lucius had forbidden her from leaving, and often rests a pale hand upon the swollen womb. She had worried herself more often than not sick, waiting for the impending death that she knows will come.

"He shall be strong and bold, I know it." His voice is firm.

She smiles, allowing her fear to fade. "It may be a girl."

"Whatever and whomever it shall be, they will be ours." He refuses to believe in another death. Each child hurt Narcissa more and more, and every time he breathed, he had felt as if something was breaking.

He could not accept another death.

…

They name him Draco.

He screams and wails, and Narcissa swears to Merlin that it is the most beautiful sound of all. Lucius clumsily holds the tiny infant, gazing down at the large eyes, and swears that he will protect this beautiful being from the threats of the worlds.

Muggle.

Wizarding.

Narcissa swears she will give her life for the child. This tiny part of Lucius.

She feels the warm rays of the sun brushing against her heart.

…

When the Dark Lord had been destroyed by the mere toddler, it had been silent.

Narcissa stood clasping her child to her, and Lucius had stood in front of the two with baited breath, waiting.

They waited for the Ministry to invade the Manor. To tear Lucius away from Narcissa. To snatch away a father from a son. Silence is stiff, but they wait.

Like their wedding, they had stood in rigid silence, and Draco dared not to wail.

The sun had risen slowly, and they all breathed a sigh of relief then.

Lucius quickly donates a couple thousand to Saint Mungo's the next day. No one had dared to look twice at him after that.

Forgotten for moments, but the past will always haunt them.

…

The years drifted away, leaving her stumbling to gather foothold in life. Lucius was gone, further and further away. Sentenced until death to hell on Earth. Surrounded by dementers, and she was barricaded away from him. She was alone and cold, struggling through the darkness.

She becomes ruthless, tying a man's fate to a promise. Her insane, twisted sister she had once had so passionately bonded the promise. Her son is walking a fine line, trapped with his back against a wall of knives.

The Dark Lord wants his soul, but she'll damn the world if she lets the Bastard steal away the only part of Lucius she has left.

…

Voldermort releases Lucius.

War had been brewing violently all throughout Britain, leaving death and pain everywhere. Lucius had left the Prison gaunt and weighed down. She races to him, undignified as ever, and wraps her arms tightly around him and swears to whatever God there is, she will not let go.

The sun is Narcissa's.

…

They mock her, of course.

She is the villain. Cold and underused, hidden away in the shadows. All she ever had been. Trapped in darkness.

Until Lucius was there.

Ginny Weasley is one of her guards, watching closely for any reason to use her wand and strike her down. Narcissa never gives her one, but sits with her head held high as she had been taught, wrists taunt with chains.

"You're going to die, you know." The young Weasley muses with sick glee. "You and him. I'll watch, of course. I owe that Bastard after the diary incident."

"As it was meant to be," She lowers herself to shrug, a disgraceful action. The child is not worth her.

"Your stupid Son died to. One happy family in hell."

Narcissa does not fear death.

…

When they greet one another, it's in a mournful silence that fills her with strength. Her son is dead. The arch stands before them. He looks at her, and smiles.

She holds her head up the way he always told her to do, and smiles boldly. She remembers the words, the very first words that had paved the road leading the final ending. "I had thought the others had already made off with you," Her words are full of laughter, because she knows what happens next, when the curtain falls and darkness rises.

He chuckles, much to the guards scorn. "If those idiots would ever prevent me from being with you." Despite the chains and cuffs, he snatches her hands and holds it close to his heart. She can feel the every so wonderful beating of it beneath her hand.

They walk with hands clasped and head held high. The viewer's scorns them, and Ginny Weasley spat at their feet. They greet impending death with grace, and she smiles. Through the archway, fate awaits them.

She had sworn long ago to follow her sun.

He is her sun, and when he sets low into the ground, she will follow into the silent abyss.

It's life.

**Yeah, I really don't know what happened here. **

**It just… happened. I dunno how. Just did. Just… read and review while I'll try and figure how I could have done this… thing. **


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